Magic Man

It seemed to be a normal rain stricken London day when the first person found one of the prized golden tickets. Within hours of the news being printed in the morning paper, all anyone was talking of was that Willy Wonka had re-opened his candy factory.

Of course, he slyly put out an announcement weeks before but nobody paid any heed to it. That is, until there was proof.

Word was that he was putting out chocolate bars that held the key to being allowed entry through the dismal iron gates that had been bolted shut for oh so long.

You may think him a madman for creating this so called wild goose chase, as these chocolate bars were being distributed around the globe as we speak.

So however could they be found, how could they be discovered when in the mix of thousands, no, millions of ticketless chocolate bars?

Well, Mr Wonka  planned for this quite well. You see, he thought ahead and realized the mass hysteria that would occur when giving a chance to billions of people worldwide have a once in a lifetime opportunity of entering the finest candy factory ever created, one might even dare to call it magical.

The very first person to find the golden ticket, launching the world into a mass hysteria, was a boy named Remus Lupin. The newspaper told that he had been a penniless orphan sitting frozen on a street corner when the cold winter sun glinted off a scrap wrapper caught in the gutter.

*****

Remus saw a glint of gold over the drain, reflected by the sun. This caught his attention, maybe he could buy lunch. A bun, or maybe some cheese and an apple. Maybe there was a whole gold coin caught in that wrapper.

It had almost washed down the drain, but he threw himself into the slushy, muddy garbage water as an attempt to make enough for a meal. He had barely caught it, his numb fingers still nimble enough to snatch up his prize.

Once he had shakily torn the toffee delight wrapper open, he had in his hands not a good coin as he had hoped, but the very first golden ticket.

He had been confused for a moment, but as he trudged disappointedly back to his doorstep to sleep for the night, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, the massive crowd around the candy shop. Specifically the sign emblazoned “Wonka” in the big show window.

That name looked familiar.

He slowly looked from the cart to the crumpled up wrapper between his fingertips, unraveling it to better look at the logo. Bloody hell.

He found one of those tickets everyone had been on about. Completely off chance, luck, maybe even a twist of fate.

What would he even do with this, would he have to prove he bought it, could he sell it? Maybe he could get enough to eat for a few days if he spread the money thinly enough.

Before he fully realized what he was doing he marched up to the cart and held the ticket up to the vendor, “Miss, what do I do with this?”

“Oh my,” she breathed, her bright red lips tilted into a smirk. “Congratulations.”

A pale boy with stick blond hair pointed at Remus and screamed, “He’s got a ticket!”

This catapulted the masses into a hysteria, and soon they were bellowing, yelling, shrieking at Remus, “I’ll give you a tenner!” “No, I’ll give you fifty pounds!” “Two hundred!”

It kept escalating until it was all just a mass of noise and Remus couldn’t even hear himself, he could feel the pressure on his ears threatening to burst, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in warning.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the too-hot feeling behind his eyes away. The strange girl somehow pushed them out of the shop as Remus stood frozen, still feeling the prickle on his eyes.

She slammed the double doors shut, shoving a chair beneath the curlicued golden handles, barring the furious crowd from bidding for the ticket.

“Now,” she said, almost bored as if she did this on the daily, “C’mon.”

She swiftly led him through the winding aisles filled with wrappers of every colour of the rainbow, it was like she knew the shop like the back of her hand.

Out of nowhere, she stopped and whirled to face him. Remus practically skidded to a stop, almost falling on his ass in the process.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

She sighed, popping her bubblegum dramatically. “McKinnon.”

“Huh?” He scrunched his nose, mouth hanging slightly open as he tried to think who or what this McKinnon girl had to do with anything.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “That’s my name. You said you don’t know who I am, I’m Marlene McKinnon. I’m one of the few people who Mr Wonka has talked to in the past 20 years. Of course, you can’t tell a single soul that I said that. Or I’ll have to kill you.”

She said all this with a completely straight face, and then grinned so wide she almost seemed psychotic. But then, maybe she was.

***********

The next to find a long coveted golden ticket was none other than a girl by the name of Dorcas Meadowes.

According to her interview she had calculated the exact number of candy bars produced by Mr Wonka, and had figured out just how small of a chance she had of getting a ticket, even going so far as to track the locations of where each bar was shipped from based solely on their barcode number.

She was a so-called “math prodigy”, levels above even the top Ivy League students.

It was unthinkable to imagine how she managed to figure out the statistics of finding a single golden ticket out of millions across the globe.

*******

Dorcas had been sleepily flicking through cartoons while pouring crappy cereal into plastic bowls for her twin brothers.

She dragged her knuckles over her eyes, attempting to not fall asleep while standing.

Robby and Will were staring up at her silently, expecting her to give them their breakfast, but she didn’t.

What was on the tv was about to change her life for good.

The morning news anchor, usually spouting a load of bull, yammering about meaningless little things like the prime ministers latest scandal, but this time he told about Willy Wonka’s return to the world.

He had apparently come back from his decades long disappearance, and was giving everyone around the world a chance to come to his factory for a tour.

But, only five people could go.

Of course, there was no way this wasn’t rigged. Like, what are the odds that same rich old man would give a tour to kids. Probably made it so that only old rich men could get them.

Goddamn patriarchy.

“No.” She said abruptly.

Robby turned to her. “No?”

He looked like he was going to cry. “No ‘toons?”

“No, no that’s not what I meant Robs.” She crouched down in front of him, and ruffled his curls. “Why don’t you and Will go see what cartoons are on, you’ll get your cheerios in a minute. Kay?”

Seemingly mollified for now, they plopped onto the lumpy carpet in front of the television, currently absorbed in a cartoon of random loud animals and anvils.

Dorcas turned her attention back to what the man on the news said. The one in a million, technically five in a million chance.

She was determined to not lose to some rich old man who could simply buy every chocolate bar there was. And so she set about calculating and tracking just how many chocolate bars were produced the night the news was delivered.

Tracing where each factory the productions took place, where the bars were shipped from, she went the whole nine yards.

And by some miracle, (the words of the news people) or by her intricate research, she found the second ticket just days after Mr Lupin.

After school on a typical Friday afternoon, Dorcas Meadowes stopped at the corner store. Mostly because she bribed Will with a chocolate to not tell Dad that she was at home that morning.

Or maybe because she had finally put the last piece into her puzzle. By piecing together the puzzle of shipments, together with where the shops are sold outdoors of Wonka products in this area, the most likely place was this shop.

She walked with purpose to the farthest back aisle, to the stacks of Wonka bars at least a foot high. It was more likely it would be at the bottom.

She carefully felt each bar, until it was one of three, all caramel swirl. She wasn’t willing to take that much of a risk, so she brought them all to the checkout.

The cashier gave her a knowing look as she scanned each chocolate. ”How’s your momma doin’ lately?”

Dorcas picked up a packet of gum off the rack, flipping it to see the label. “She’s been better. Not too bad now, but Dad’s been getting worse.”

She was given a sympathetic and understanding  expression before being handed the candy and receipt.

“Now you and the boys behave yourselves, alright sweetheart?”

“We will, always do,” Dorcas replied, smiling gratefully.

She waved behind her as she swung the door open, the bell ringing as the door fell shut. She bursted into a full sprint, clutching her purchase to her chest. Not too tightly though, so it didn’t melt everywhere.

With too much momentum, she skidded into the grass, tearing up the lawn. She slammed up the steps, throwing open the door and dashing up to the attic as quick as she could.

Barely bothering to kick off her runners, she launched herself onto her bed. Just as she was about to start tearing open the wrapper, she stopped. She couldn’t do this. What if she was wrong, all her meticulous calculations. All of it. She would never believe herself again. Never trust.

She shakily sucked in a long breath, releasing it just as slowly as it came in.

She carefully pulled open the first wrapper, breathless in her anticipation. Would it, wouldn’t it, maybe it will, maybe it won’t.

Fuck it.

She ripped open the wrapper, impatiently but careful enough to not damage the possible ticket.

Nothing.

She shucked the second bar of its plastic husk, again, nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Dorcas ran a hand tiredly down her face.

Fuck it if it wasn’t this one.

And there was nothing.

Dorcas let out a dry sob, strangled to silence quickly as she catapulted her face into her pillow. Muffled, she screamed into her pillow, letting out all the anticipation turned anger, the frustration at herself.

She wanted to cry, to scream, to punch the walls and move to the Italian countryside so she would never have to talk to anyone again.

She lay there for what seemed like eons before wearily pushing herself upright,  picking up the useless chocolates.

Even if they were of no use without the golden ticket, at least her brothers could enjoy them.

She shuffled down the stairs, almost falling flat on her face as her foot caught on the carpet bump, smack dab in the middle of the staircase.

She sucked in a sharp breathing, resisting the urge to scream.

Once she reached the living room, she tossed the candy bars at her brothers.

“Hey!” Robby complained, gaze torn from the television.

“Why’d you throw it at me?” Will whined.

“At least I shared, instead of hogging it to myself.” Dorcas scoffed angrily, rolling her eyes and turning on her heel.

She stormed back up the stairs, still holding the last bar. She took a bite out of it, but it tasted a little off.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her fury forgotten in the midst of her discovery.

Kind of bland, but smooth on her tongue.

What the-

She spat it out into her hand, a faint glint of gold in the palm of her hand. It was covered in spit and chocolate, but nonetheless, a golden ticket.

She let out a shrill scream. The ticket had stuck to the bottom of the chocolate, probably from the combined factors of her practically squishing it, as well as the scorching summer heat.

Dorcas practically fell down the stairs in her excitement, yelling to Robby and Will as she sprinted out the door, “Don’t open the door for anyone, I’ve got my key, keep watching cartoons.”

She slammed the door, fumbling with the key awkwardly before managing to lock the door properly, before she started sprinting full-out again.

The corner store was about to close for the night, she glanced at her watch. Five minutes.

Her orange sneakers slapped the sidewalk loudly.

Four minutes.

Her breath wheezed through her lungs, which were working overtime.

Three minutes.

Almost there, just one more corner.

Two minutes.

Dorcas skidded to a halt, barely avoiding crashing into Ms Carter, the owner of the corner store.

“Now Dorcas, what on earth are you running like a bat out of hell for?” She demanded.

Dorcas was doubled over, one hand braces on her knee, gasping for breath as she raised the other hand and waved her beautiful golden ticket.

She looked up at Ms Carter, “I found it. I said I’d find it. The golden ticket.”

She laughed breathlessly, triumphant with her news.

“Well my goodness, why didn’t you just tell me that straight away?” Ms Carter tutted, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

She fiddled with her keys for a moment, searching for the correct key on her ring full of enough keys to unlock every door in the world.

Pushing open the unlocked door, she let Dorcas in first.

“How about you go get yourself an ice cream treat to celebrate, hm?  It’s on me, sugar. I need to call the news anyways to tell them you found the ticket,” she beamed, evidently proud of her.

*******

After Dorcas and Remus, a boy named Barty Crouch Jr found the long sought-after third ticket.

In his interview, he stated that his story was much more simple, or even boring than those of Dorcas Meadowes and Remus Lupin.

He was simply in a shop, trying to avoid the swarms of people purchasing stacks and stacks of Wonka chocolates, when he decided to see if they were even all that good.

*******

Barty had just had an hour-long screaming match with his stupid mayor father, over a little eyeliner.

He had shown up late to dinner, (by two minutes if it was really that important), and Barty Crouch Sr had decided to pick apart every piece of his sons worthless existence.

It started with his eyeliner, Pandora had wanted to practice on him that morning before her date, so he let her, but his father seems to think he’s suddenly turning into “one of those homosexuals”.

Like it wasn’t obvious enough when he was 13 at band camp. His father had thought to visit him in the middle of the summer, just dropping by un-announced, to Barty, it would have been considered trashy if he didn’t call ahead to the camp director.

He had met a blond boy who played saxophone, and unknowingly, at the time, fallen for him. His father walked in the room as they almost kissed, only seeing them fling themselves away from each other.

He didn’t seem to find this odd.

His father then decided to berate him for not  proposing to Pandora yet, even though they were both clearly not straight.

Barty scowled.

His father was a major prick.

Barry’s father had kicked him out, or at least until his mother could calm him down enough for him to come back.

So he was walking in the twilight, illuminated every so often by flickering street lamps, on his way to the corner shop to buy a pack of cigarettes.

He strolled into the neon glow of the shop, wincing at the thrum of incessant noise coming from the arguing crowd around the infamous Wonka bars.

What was even the big deal about them anyway?

He lazily meandered through the aisles until he reached the section holding his cigarettes. He snatched up a pack, turning it over in his hand, fingers spinning it like a satellite.

Round and round.

Barty wound his way back through the lanes, accidentally walking into the huddle in the chocolate aisle.

It seemed as though two grown women were about to launch into a fistfight over a single chocolate bar.

He watched, amused for a moment before he snatched the chocolate to the collective shock and horror of the group. It seemed there were rules as to who got it.

Too bad Barty never gave a rats ass about rules.

He calmly placed both items down at the register, along with a twenty pound note.

The cashier rather boredly rung up both items, with a pop of bubblegum between each.

After slipping his change into his pocket, Barty tore the wrapper reading hazelnut fudge wide open, about to try the so-called “god-given ambrosia” as the papers were calling it, when a combined gasp swept through the slowly angering crowd.

“I could have gotten that ticket!”

“It was rightfully mine!”

“If I just took it first,”

Barty turned over the chocolate and let out a wild cackle. There was no way he of all people, had found one of the three remaining tickets.

But, by some strange turn of events, he had.

He smirked, returning to the register. Pulling out the ticket, he flipped it over to the completely unphased cashier who cast a bored glance at him, before telling him to wait outside while he called in another ticket found.

And so Barty, grinning like the devil, lazily strolled out the door while shoving the chocolate and ticket in his jacket.

Letting the door swing shut, he leaned against the wall as he pulled out his lighter and a lone cigarette.

Holding it between two fingers, he flicked the lighter open, struggling to get a spark.

“Oi, catch,” an unfamiliar voice spoke out of the gloom.

He looked up in surprise, reflexively catching the small object.

A lighter.

The person belonging to the voice stepped into the cone of light from the lamp above, illuminating his shocking blue eyes and messy hair.

The face was more familiar than the voice.

“Could I get a smoke? Y’know, since you’re borrowing my lighter and all that shebang.”

Barty passed him one silently, and his lighter as well, after a moment.

“So it seems you’re the next to enter the contest,” the other boy broke the silence.

“It seems that way.”

“What d’you think this Wonka fellow seems to be doing with this whole ordeal?”

“I dunno, maybe he’s dying and needs someone to run it for him,” Barty laughed.

“D’you really think so?”

“Nah, he’s probably just trying to get more sales.”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged, appearing unconcerned.

“Whatever it is, good luck.”

He gave a nod of acknowledgement, before returning his gaze to the cracked concrete beneath his feet.

“Y’know what, keep the lighter. Yours is shit anyway.”

With that, he tossed it back to Barty and disappeared back into the night.

*******

The fourth person to find a ticket was a girl by the name of Lily Evans.

The newspapers wrote that she had been on holiday in New Zealand with her family, when they had stopped for petrol and she had bought a chocolate bar.

Thinking nothing of it until she opened it, she was shocked to find a ticket.

********

Lily had been slipping in and out of sleep, waking when her sister, Petunia flailed in her sleep. Petunia frequently got up in the middle of the night at home, but it was more than a little difficult to do that in a cramped car.

So instead, she hit Lily across the face every thirty minutes or so. Lily tried to shield her face with a pillow, but that didn’t help all that much.

Suddenly, Petunia startled awake as they slowed down for a red light. And as per usual, she started whining and complaining.

This time, she claimed she was so hungry her stomach was about to fall out.

Their father begrudgingly parked at the next petrol station, saying, “If you’re not back by the time I’ve filled it up, I’m leaving you girls behind.”

And so, both girls sprinted to the store adjacent to the lot.

Petunia reached the door first, as she had longer legs, but Lily managed to get the door open before she did.

They both immediately went to different sections, Lily went straight to the chocolate aisle, but she couldn’t see what direction Petunia went.

She slowly walked the length of the aisle, scanning the shelves. At the end, right in front of her face was a single Wonka bar. It read: peaches n’ cream in a fancy curlicue font.

Lily grabbed it quickly so Petunia couldn’t snatch it and throw a fit over it being hers. Even still, her sister tried to grab the chocolate out of her hands, pulling as hard as she could.

“No, stop it you’re going to ruin it!”

“But I want it!”

“I had it first though!”

They were suddenly pulled apart from each other by their father, who glared between the two of them.

“Why are we fighting in public,” he gritted out, still keeping them far apart.

Petunia was fake crying now.

Ugh.

“Da-aaad! I got the chocolate bar first, but Petunia was trying to steal it from me.”

“No I wasn’t! She’s lying!” Petunia was furious.

“Petunia, I saw you trying to take it. Now give Lily her chocolate back, or neither of you get it.”

“Fine!” She sent a glare at Lily so cold, it could put out a thousand suns.

She stomped away, probably to go sulk in a corner with an ice cream. She couldn’t for long though. Soon enough, they were back in the car and Petunia was still sending daggers Lily’s way.

It would likely remain that way until they got back home.

Lily carefully peeled open her candy wrapper, she liked to keep them just as they looked when they were sold. There was a box filled to the brim with old candy wrappers hidden in the farthest corner under her bed.

Petunia liked to snoop.

It was pitch black outside, and Lily only saw it when they drove under a street lamp. A slight shimmer through the wrapper.

Her eyes widened. She pressed it against the window to catch as much light as possible before they passed the next lamp.

She let out a shrill scream.

Her father almost drove into a ditch.

“Lily Jane Evans, you better have a damn good reason for making me almost crash into a ditch!”

“The- I got- it’s the ticket,” she breathed.

“What in the name of God are you talking about young lady?” Her mother had woken up and decided to take part in this.

“It’s the ticket. The Wonka ticket. The factory, the chocolate, it’s-“

Petunia started crying.

Their father pulled over.

“Will somebody in this damn car explain to me what is going on?” He demanded.

Lily shook herself out of her shock. “Father, it’s a ticket to Willy Wonka’s factory. His chocolate factory. And there are only five in the whole world.”

“Wonka you say? Why I used to know a fellow by that name. Rather strange fellow. Always on about some new crackpot invention.”

Petunia took a pause in her crying for this. “He’s not a crackpot, Father. He’s a genius. Nobody in the world can make chocolate quite like him.”

He looked begrudgingly impressed. “So he finally made something of himself then? I must see this for myself that he is not the same bumbling fool he once was.”

“Father, the people on the telly say you must call the news right away once you’ve gotten a ticket.”

“Most people just let the store workers call,” Petunia added.

“Fine! Fine. I will turn the car around, but if I hear so much as a peep out of either of you, we’re returning that chocolate bar. I don’t care if you already opened it, it’s going back. You hear me?”

They both nodded, “Yes sir.”

The silence had never been quite this loud.

Not even when the whole house had been awoken in the wee hours of the Christmas morning to a flour covered kitchen, courtesy of Petunia.

She had somehow gotten it into her head that she needed to help her mother with the holiday baking, and it could not wait.

This had resulted in her dropping and smashing multiple cartons of eggs, the kitchen still having flour in various crevices, even nine years later.

Six-year-old Petunia had thought she was helping, until she realized that none of this was any good to her mother or father.

The silence had been deafening, and Lily remembered it vividly, even though she had barely been five at the time.

It had filled her ears, washing over her like a tidal wave. This one wasn’t much different, relentlessly pushing her head under the ringing silence.

Petunia’s snores brought Lily out of her thoughts, as she realized the car had stopped. Yawning and rubbing tiredly at her eyes, she watched her father pull her door open.

Still tightly clutching her chocolate bar, Lily followed her father back into the shop.

As he was explaining the whole ordeal to the shopkeeper, Lily wandered around the shop, looking at the colourful displays.

She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was walking, and collided with something, sending her to the floor.

“Hey I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Looking up, she realized she had crashed into a boy. His brows were pulled together in a way that seemed concerned.

Lily shook her head slightly, “No, that was on me, I’m sorry.”

He smiled and offered her a hand up. She took it, gratefully. They were standing awkwardly close for a minute before the boy broke the silence with, “So I see you have a Wonka bar, d’you think you’re gonna win?”

Wait- win?

Win what? 

But she was already speaking, and it was too late to pull the words out of her mouth and swap them for new ones.

She smirked and replied, “Oh I already have.”

His jaw was on the floor, but not for long. “Well would you be interested in letting me take it off your hands?”

“Depends. What’ll you give me?”

“What do you want?”

She appeared to be actually considering his offer until her father stepped behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You will let him do no such thing, nobody else is getting this ticket. That is final.”

He sent the boy a glare so withering it could melt the sun.

As he pulled her away, he admonished her. “What have I told you about not talking to strange boys?”

“But Dad he talked first!” She protested.

“Ah,” he held up a finger. “No buts. I don’t care what he did, you don’t talk to strange boys. Especially not greasy little creeps like him.”

Lily just rolled her eyes.

In her head of course.

*******

The fifth and final person to find a lucky golden ticket was none other than James Potter.

His story in the news told that he had been out for tea with his grandmother, who had insisted on buying him a chocolate bar as a little present for being “such a sweet boy”.

He tried to deny the gift and give it to her, but she had been very persistent in the fact that that particular chocolate was meant for him.

She claimed it would change his fate.

And of course, as grandmothers always are, she was right.

********

James’ grandmother had insisted on meeting him for tea on this specific Saturday morning, at this specific shop.

It wasn’t the usual shop, but she insisted fate had told her to take him there. He followed along with what she told him, because who was he to argue with fate?

For all James knew, today would change his destiny. Only the rulers of fate knew whether for better or worse.

“Nani, I love you, but I don’t need this!” James laughed, feigning exasperation.

He secretly loved her little habit of buying him chocolates. She had done this since he could rest solid foods, sneaking him candies whenever his mum and dad’s backs were turned.

“Nonsense. I say you get this candy, you get it.”  His grandmother shrugged in a matter-of-fact way, like she always did.

James sighed, making a show of giving in to her, as was a part of the ritual this has become.

“So where are we going?”

She shushed him, “You’ll find out when we get there.”

Oh well, what’s the worst that could happen?

He took a deep breath in, never for one moment thinking that he was about to change his life forever.

He followed his Nani as she meandered down every side street lined with little shops and boutiques, never stopping for more than a minute. As if she was searching for something. Or someone.

They had passed by multiple perfectly fine seeming candy shops, or so James thought, but none good enough for her standards.

She scanned every sign as if searching for a flavour of so-called destiny, the pull of his certain future.

She didn’t seem satisfied with any until she stopped dead in front of a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop, the front sign not even legible through the thick layer of grime covering it.

She gave him by a big smile, walking to the door. When he didn’t follow her right away, she impatiently told him, “Hurry along, we haven’t got all day now have we?”

James sighed quietly and followed her through the door, holding it open gingerly with the back of his hand, which he quickly scrubbed against the edge of his jumper.

She was uncharacteristically cheerful, especially since she was known for being a germaphobe.

If even he was grossed out by this shop, he who once licked a worm on  a dare, then it wasn’t an understatement to say his Nani would usually never even deign to look at the sign, never mind enter this grungy little shop.

They walked down every aisle, James just following blindly at this point, until she halted suddenly.

James practically skidded on the dull linoleum floors so he wouldn’t crash into her back.

“Aha!” She triumphantly exclaimed.

She was staring at a case labelled Wonka on the top shelf.

“James, my dear, would you mind reaching up there for one of those candy bars?”

“The Wonka ones?”

She sighed, “Yes the Wonka ones.”

And so he reached over his head for one, feeling around in the cardboard case for even a single bar.

“There aren’t any Nani,” James told her, slightly disappointed.

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Bring the case down.”

He did, and to his complete surprise and her satisfaction, there was a single bar sitting at the very back of the case.

It read orange creamsicle in swirly writing.

“I told you,” she smiled knowingly, “always believe your Nani.”

He gave her a lopsided sheepish grin in response.

She had never been wrong.

She started shuffling back down the aisle from which they came, heading in the general direction of the checkout.

He followed her, with the question of how she knew there was a chocolate left there floating across his web of consciousness.

But then, the thought fluttered away as another one crashed into the forefront of his brain like a bull moose in a china shop.

He glanced offhandedly at the register, not quite catching the face of the person behind it until wind caught at their hair, tossing it about like a child’s play thing.

Some unimportant person had likely opened the door, which James missed, he had been so inside his head, caught up in his own thoughts.

That insignificant person set James on the path of no return. Where he was going, he wouldn’t know. But he was never coming back.

The person belonging to the now messed-up curls was a rather thin boy, probably about James’ age, maybe a year or two younger.

His bright blue eyes were in stark contrast with his jet black hair and bone pale skin. He looked like death.

It turns out death can be beautiful.

Or at the very least, his was.

As James and his grandmother stepped up to the register, the beautiful boy looked up and finally met his eyes.

Of course, James immediately looked away, but at least there was something.

His Nani conveniently faded into the background, shuffling over to examine a basket on the shelf.

“Will this be all?” The boy smiled as if he knew something James didn’t.

“Oh- uh- yeah, sorry.” James was slowly turning bright red.

“Have you had one of these chocolates yet? I’ve heard they’re really good, like the best thing in the world. One person even said it was like heaven on earth.” James was rambling.

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was alright, I guess.”

“Cause I think you can’t always trust the public opinion, I personally think they’re all trying to butter up this Wonka fellow to give out more tickets, y’know? It’s almost as if they’re in love with him, except nobody’s seen him in years. Maybe he’s an ugly old man.”

The boys cheeks were quickly reddening, making him look less like death and more and more like life itself.

He looked a bit like an angel that one would put atop their Christmas tree, complete with a halo of curls.

“Sorry, I’m going to shut up now.” James looked down at his feet which were scuffing at the edge of the counter in front of him.

If he had been looking up he would’ve seen the boys brows pinch together, and a sad smile ghost across his lips.

Unfortunately, he missed it.

When he looked up, the boy simply handed him the change and gave him a tight smile.

The sort one would give to a stranger on the street, or after making eye contact with an old person.

But that simple interaction felt like a field of wildflowers bursting into bloom in his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe all of a sudden.

As the boy awkwardly held out his chocolate in his skeleton-like fingers, James hurriedly snatched it from him, mumbling a quick “Thanks,” before all but running for the door.

He was halfway down the block before he even realized it, with his Nani patiently shuffling along behind him.

“What’s the matter now, dear? You seem rather giddy,” she remarked.

“I’m not,” he protested through a sheepish grin that admitted the very opposite of his words.

“Whatever you say, dear.”

As always, James’ Nani was right. She was never wrong.